


it's natural to wince (it's brave to keep on looking)

by kluxbusters



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Not a hockey player, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, gratuitous descriptions of clothing, minor smut, the story is done any additional chapters are codas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kluxbusters/pseuds/kluxbusters
Summary: Marie L (8:29 AM, EST): Meet your co-star for the athlete shoot, Travis Konecny of the Philadelphia Flyers 😏God. Nolan really needs to update her on text lingo.Nolan Patrick (8:34 AM, EST): Thanks. Know anything else about him?Marie L (8:36 AM, EST): The Sensation Rocking the Hockey World, Travis Konecny. "Standing at 5’10 with shoulder length brown hair, Travis Konecny isn’t the usual guy you’d pick as a professional hockey player."Nolan learns three things of importance from the article: one, that Travis is shorter than him. Two, that Travis is from Ontario. And three, that Nolan’s seen him before, in a gay club in the middle of East Village.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 64
Kudos: 373





	1. i know who i want to take me home

**Author's Note:**

> If this work involves you or anyone you know, please click away now. Go donate to your local food bank instead of reading this!  
This work is a piece of fiction and is not a reflection on real life people or events.
> 
> please don't read my works on your public podcast or repost them onto a public site. 
> 
> update 4/27: any additional chapters are codas. the work is complete.
> 
> whew. now that's done with. i was serious about the gratuitous descriptions of clothing--there's a WHOLE lot. in fact, this fic was really an excuse for me to imagine nolan in really pretty clothing.  
title from one of my co-star notifications, actually!
> 
> as always, thank you to maia for listening to me yell about it in vague, strange terms in her dms for a month.  
thank you to amy for inspiring this one in the first place, and threatening to kill me whenever i sent her an excerpt. i hope you like it.  
and of course, thank you to spotify and their playlist of "80's hits" for keeping me going when caffeine and sugar couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this work involves you or anyone you know, please click away now. Go donate to your local food bank instead of reading this!  
This work is a piece of fiction and is not a reflection on real life people or events.
> 
> UPDATE 4/27: ANY ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS ARE CODAS/EXTRAS. THE STORY IS COMPLETE.
> 
> whew. now that's done with. i was serious about the gratuitous descriptions of clothing--there's a WHOLE lot. in fact, this fic was really an excuse for me to imagine nolan in really pretty clothing.
> 
> title from one of my co-star notifications, actually!
> 
> as always, thank you to maia for listening to me yell about it in vague, strange terms in her dms for a month.  
thank you to amy for inspiring this one in the first place, and threatening to kill me whenever i sent her an excerpt. i hope you like it.  
and of course, thank you to spotify and their playlist of "80's hits" for keeping me going when caffeine and sugar couldn't.

For all the modeling he does, Nolan doesn’t actually like to look at himself in the mirror. Sure, he’ll glance at the ruffles of a collar or a skirt, make sure the pants are draped just the way a certain designer likes them, but he doesn’t linger.

Nico doesn’t get it, calls him a vampire whenever they walk past a mirror, as if being a vampire wouldn’t be the coolest thing ever. Nico thinks a lot of things that Nolan doesn’t agree with, but they’re friends—came into the industry around the same time, were in a lot of shoots together at the start of their careers. Nolan likes Nico, as much as you can like someone you see three times a year.

“It’s an atypical shoot,” The designer says, trying to make eye contact with Nolan. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“I do atypical shoots all the time,” Nolan says flatly. “What makes this one different?”

“We’re going to be working with _ professional athletes _,” The guy says, as if that means anything to Nolan.

Nolan’s agent, Marie, must be able to tell he’s getting bored, because she rushes to say “That sounds great! Why don’t you send me the info and I’ll let you know when Nolan’s available.”

_ Marie L (3:33 PM, EST): The shoot looks fun. Let me say yes for you. _

_ Nolan Patrick (3:35 PM, EST): Okay. _

“I don’t want to do this,” He says to her once they’re outside, collars turned up against the cold New York wind.

“Well it’s a good shoot, you like their clothes, and it’s good exposure.”

“Exposure,” Nolan mumbles, grumpy. “They’re gonna try and get athletes to look good in high fashion and it’s not gonna work.”

“Hey, maybe you’ll get Raptors tickets or something out of it,” Marie says before whisking him into a car, off to their next stop.

Nolan’s used to posing, used to standing in front of a camera for hours on end, waiting for that one shot that makes the director satisfied. He likes the directors no one else does, the ones that other models avoid like the plague. Nolan doesn’t mind those ones, the ones that yell or give instructions like they’re running a drill. It reminds him of home, the way he could always hear coaches yelling at skaters, even if he was ten rows of bleachers away. The way he can still hear the Winnipeg wind, howling, from two thousand, six hundred, and sixty miles away.

_ Marie L (8:29 AM, EST): Meet your co-star, Travis Konecny of the Philadelphia Flyers _😏

God. Nolan really needs to update her on text lingo. 

_ Nolan Patrick (8:34 AM, EST): Thanks. Know anything else about him? _

_Marie L (8:36 AM, EST):_ _The Sensation Rocking the Hockey World, Travis Konecny.__ "Standing at 5’10 with shoulder length brown hair, Travis Konecny isn’t the usual guy you’d pick as a professional hockey player."_

Nolan learns three things of importance from the article: one, that Travis is shorter than him. Two, that Travis is from Ontario. And three, that Nolan’s seen him before, in a gay club in the middle of East Village.

Nolan’s good at keeping up appearances—showing up at the right parties at the right time, making sure his shirt is unbuttoned in just the right way, combing his hair just enough so that it looks ruffled by the time he gets out of his car.

Apparently, Travis Konecny is too, because his NHL.com profile looks _ nothing _ like the TK Nolan met three months ago, even though they’re undoubtedly the same guy. He watches a couple videos from the Flyers’ youtube channel, and he recognizes some things about this _ Travis _ —his laugh, the way his hair falls to his shoulders, but he recognizes more in the way he carries himself—the way Nolan used to, before someone stood him up properly and told him to _ strut, not just walk. _

Even thought Nolan knows the typical hockey guy, he’s still thrown by Travis when they “first meet” at the shoot. He suspects Travis is thrown too, if the way his eyes widen and his handshake’s just a _ little _too tight is any indication.

“Nice to meet you, Travis,” Nolan says, drawing the Travis out a little bit. 

“Nice to meet you too, Nolan,” Travis says, eyes still wide.

“Has anybody ever told you that you don’t look like a Travis?” Nolan says, and, hey, he never said he was nice. He’s a model, after all. 

“Uh, not really?” Travis laughs, some obvious nervousness seeping through.

“Maybe a TK, or something,” Nolan muses, reveling in the way Travis turns a ghostly white before Nolan turns to face the director.

The concept is fine, at least—Nolan gets to sit and have his hair braided (played with), flowers twisted into the plait. Travis gets the same treatment, and Nolan wonders exactly what an NHL player is getting out of modeling like this.

“Why this shoot?” Nolan asks, glancing over at Travis.

“Huh?” Travis asks. 

“Why choose this shoot to do? You must have some veto power, right? Wouldn’t a regular hockey player want to do something a little more typical? Masculine, maybe?”

“I guess,” Travis says, shrugging. “I’ve never been one for those sort of ideas, though.”

“So. Flowers in your hair,” Nolan says, standing up and dragging his chair over to Travis’. It’s fine, he’s already done with makeup. 

“Flowers in my hair, eyeshadow on my eyelids,” Travis laughs, and that’s more like the TK Nolan met months ago. He takes a moment to stare at the aforementioned eyeshadow, the way it streaks under his eyes too, almost as if Travis has a black eye. It sets him wondering if Travis has ever had a black eye before—he must've, with the way he acts, teasing the makeup artists and comfortably talking back to whatever PR rep is with him today. 

They end up shooting in harsh light, throwing the flowers into shadow and making the tulle ruffles of their sleeves look deadly sharp.

"Is it always like this?" Travis whispers when he's close enough. The director has them posing back to back, Travis' arm hooked around Nolan's, heads tilted back as if they're about to rest on each other's shoulders.

"Yeah," Nolan whispers back, careful not to move the braid that's been draped over his cheek.

They do a couple more shots with that pose, then the director decides that he wants Nolan's hair to change, so they take a break so the hair team can fix him.

"This is kinda crazy," Travis says once they're back at the mirrors. "I don't know if I could do this for work."

"Well, it's good that you don't have to, Travis," Nolan says, reminding Travis where they are, who they're pretending to be. Maybe reminding himself, too. 

And, it's not like Nolan thinks every gay person should be out to everyone. That makes no sense. Coming out can be dangerous, or just uncomfortable. Sometimes it's just easier (and safer!) to lie. But it feels different with Travis, maybe because he seemed so comfortable in that club, maybe because he seems so different now. 

So Nolan waits until the makeup artist is far enough away, and then asks "you ever go by TK, anymore, or was that just that one night?"

"Are we doing this here?" Travis asks, his voice losing any of the earlier snark it had. "Now?"

"We don't have to," Nolan says flatly. "I'm just curious."

"My nickname's TK. That club was a one time thing."

"Were you just curious, or are you afraid?"

"Why can't I be both?" Travis shoots back.

"You can, I guess," Nolan says. "You're really not the typical hockey guy, are you Travis?"

"No, I guess not," Travis says, the hint of metal in his voice returning. "And call me TK." 

The shoot finishes without ceremony—they take the final shots, undo the hair and makeup, and then Travis and Nolan are on the curb, dressed in street clothing. Or, as close to street clothing as Nolan can get, so while Travis is wearing a light green hoodie with some writing on the back and jeans, Nolan is wearing pants with hearts striped across them in neat rows, matching the single heart patched on his shirt. 

"You wanna a grab a coffee?" Travis asks before Nolan can order an Uber. "I'll pay."

"Sure," Nolan agrees, and they walk to the closest coffee shop they see. It ends up being a small mom-and-pop coffeehouse, and Nolan just lets himself breathe in the sugary fumes when he walks in. 

Travis orders, because he's paying, and because Nolan trusts him enough to just get him a latte. 

When Travis sits down, though, it's with two coffees and two donuts.

"What is this?" Nolan asks when one donut is slid across the table towards him.

"I know you're a model, bud, but surely you've seen a donut before," TK says, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, is it supposed to be for me? Cause I don't eat that sort of thing."

"Yeah it's for you. You looked like you wanted one when we came in. Take it or leave it, I guess."

Nolan eats it, as grumpily as he can manage when biting into what is admittedly a surprisingly good donut.

"So, why the coffee invite?" Nolan asks after a while.

"I'm gonna come out," Travis says, without preamble.

"Congrats."

"No, I mean, I'm gonna do the whole official statement thing, film something for You Can Play, it's just that my PR person says that I'll look better if I have a boyfriend already."

"And why are you telling me this?" Nolan asks, not unkindly.

"Because I think you're the perfect person for the job."

"What?"

"Just, just hold on a second. I can pay you, really well, and you wouldn't have to sleep with me, I just need someone to be on my instagram every once in a while and come to games sometimes. You wouldn't even have to meet my family."

"Can I say," Nolan starts. "Objectively, this is crazy. What you're asking, that's crazy. You want what, a fake boyfriend?"

"Not so loud!" Travis hisses, ducking down as if this is the craziest thing to happen in New York City. "And yeah, I guess, I just thought you might be a good fit, you're from Canada—"

"Did you look me up?"

"—and you're the right age, and I know you can act, cause you model, so I thought why not?"

"How much?" Nolan asks.

"Huh?"

"How much. Would I be paid. Is it a pay-per-appearance thing, with bonuses for certain actions?"

"Yes, definitely. That sounds fair," Travis says.

"Do you even know what that means?" Nolan asks, leveling a stare at Travis.

"Not really, but we both have agents, right? They could sort it out."

"You play for Philadelphia, right?"

"Yeah."

"It's not a bad flight."

"So you'll do it?" Travis asks, and oh, Nolan's always been a sucker for a good Ontario boy. Even if this one weirdly reminds him of his labradoodle puppy.

"Yeah, fine," Nolan says, extending his hand for a handshake. Travis high-fives him instead.

In the end, Nolan doesn't bother going through his agent. They decide on some set dates for Nolan to appear, and he arranges his schedule so he can attend. The first appearance he has scheduled ends up being a close call, with Nolan wrapping up a shoot at twelve, getting handed lunch before he steps into a cab, and sitting at his terminal five minutes before his group is called. There's a big game on Tuesday against the Devils, so the players and all their partners are going out to dinner tonight. Well, Travis said it was dinner, but he also added that they're leaving at three-thirty and not coming back until 9, so Nolan figures there's probably another event in there somewhere. Nolan can't stay for the game, unfortunately—he's flying back to New York to meet with a Versace rep to talk about walking for their fall show.

When Nolan turns on his phone after the flight, it's to three messages.

_ Travis Konecny (3:46 PM, EST): hey i'm at the pickup line outside of ur terminal. see u soon! _

_ Marie L (3:20 PM, EST): You'll be back before next Tuesday, right? I really can't afford to push back your shoots any further. _

_ (1 Instagram Notification) ryannegiroux: Hey, Travis told me you're coming to dinner tonight with us. He's lovely, but not always the most descriptive. If you have any questions just ask me lol_

Giroux catches on something in Nolan's memory, remembering the quick research he did on the Flyers one day in between shoots. Claude Giroux is the captain, so Ryanne must be his wife. He types out a quick response as he heads towards the pick-up line.

_ nolpatrick: hi! i'm just wondering what to wear? i know you guys sometimes do group outfits, but i also have zero idea what we're doing tonight _

"Nolan!" He hears over the clamor of the airport, and Nolan looks up from his phone to see Travis, hanging out of a truck window and waving.

Nolan makes his way over to the truck, throwing his bags in the truck bed when he gets close enough. Travis gets out to help him haul his suitcase in, then pulls the truck bed cover over the whole bed.

"Oh buddy," Travis says once he straightens up. "What are you _ wearing _?"

Nolan crosses his arms over his chest, insecure. "I came straight from a shoot, didn't have time to change."

"Who were you shooting for?" Travis asks, laughing a little.

"Lagerfeld," Nolan says. "Can we just get in the car?"

They hope into the car, Nolan opening his day bag to grab a t-shirt so he can change.

"I wasn't saying that so you'd change," Travis mumbles after Nolan's unbuttoned his shirt down to his waist. "It just looked a little out of place in a Philadelphia airport."

Nolan's eyes catch on one of the moles he has, placed just in between two ribs. He's self conscious, suddenly, and hurries to get his shirt off and himself into his tee.

"It's fine," Nolan says. "I needed to change anyways."

Nolan's phone dings and he stashes the silk shirt he was wearing in his duffel, quickly tapping over to the instagram app.

_ ryannegiroux: We're going axe-throwing and then to a beer garden for dinner. It's a pretty casual thing, so most of us are just wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans_

_ nolpatrick: thanks so much! excited to meet the rest of the team_

_ ryannegiroux: Can't wait to meet you! _

"Is that Ryanne?" Travis asks, glancing over at Nolan.

"Yeah," Nolan replies. "Are we taking photos for your instagram tonight?"

"That was the plan," Travis says.

"What are you planning on wearing?"

"Probably jeans, t-shirt, and a flannel."

"Are we stopping at the house before we head over?"

"Yeah, why?" Travis asks.

"I'll probably borrow one of your shirts."

Travis' house is shocking, to say the least. Most of the hockey players Nolan's aware of live in huge houses or expensive condos, but Travis picked a house that's smack dab in the middle of a small neighborhood, a brick house along a street of brick houses. 

"I know it's not the typical mansion, but I've never wanted a big place."

"I like it," Nolan says, and means it. It fits Travis, in a comfortable sort of way. He can see Travis living his whole life here, posing his kids against the mismatched doors, walking them to school on spring mornings, sitting out on the stoop with them and telling them about the stars.

"Well, I'm glad. Come on, let's get your bag from the trunk."

They head inside, Nolan dropping his bag on the couch and heading into Travis' bedroom.

"So what were you thinking?" Travis asks, swinging his closet door open.

"I dunno. Don't even know what you have."

"Are you wearing that tonight?" Travis asks, running his eyes over Nolan's frame. All in all, it's not the worst outfit Nolan's had to wear out of a shoot, just navy blue corduroy pants and a silk top, and with the t-shirt he changed into he's even more comfortable. 

"Yeah, why not?" Nolan asks, pulling a pair of slim cut jeans from Travis' closet. He pulls out a faded t-shirt with Gritty's face splashed across it, and then a pair of white converse as well, throwing them all at Travis.

"What is that?" Travis asked. "I thought you said you were wearing the same outfit?"

"It's your outfit, TK," Nolan sighs, sitting down on the bed.

"Is my style really that bad?"

"No," Nolan says, a little uncomfortable. He knows he can be difficult about fashion, and while he doesn't need the money, he wants to help Travis—

"Relax, I'm just messing with you," Travis says. "I'm a hockey player from Bumfuck, Nowhere, I know my fashion sense leaves a lot to be desired."

"Oh," Nolan exhales. "How long do we have before we leave?"

"Thirty minutes or so."

"You mind if I nap for ten minutes?" Nolan asks.

"Go for it. I'll be in the living room."

Travis leaves, and Nolan stretches out on the bed, setting a ten minute timer on his phone and closing his eyes.

The rest of the afternoon is kind of crazy, honestly. After Nolan wakes up from his nap, he fixes his hair in the mirror and rushes to get in the car, and they drive over to the axe-throwing place.

Nolan does the rounds, introduces himself to the players, one arm around Travis' shoulders, and then Nolan spots the Giroux's on the other side of the room. He slides his arm from around Travis' shoulders to Travis' waist, and walks them over to where Ryanne and Claude are.

"Hey guys, this is Nolan," Travis says, and then after a look from Claude, he continues. "My boyfriend."

"Great to meet you, I'm Claude," Claude says, a tinge of French coloring his words.

"Yeah," Nolan says, shaking his hand.

"I'm Ryanne," Ryanne says, putting her hand on Nolan's shoulder. "Come on, I'll make the rounds with you."

"Thanks for messaging me," Nolan says. "It was really kind."

Ryanne looks at him for a moment, almost like she's assessing him. "I know how important this is to Travis, both you being here and coming out how he wants. I'm more than happy to help."

Then they make it to a group of blonde women, and the introductions begin.

"So, what is it like, being a model?" One of them—Gina, Nolan thinks—asks.

"It's not as bad as everyone makes it out to be, honestly," Nolan laughs. "The clothes are nice, most of the time, and I get discounts from a lot of designers."

"You were in Vogue a little while ago, right?" Another asks, and Nolan nods. 

"Mm, for Elie Saab, I think," He says. "He's honestly one of my favorites."

"So, how'd you meet Travis?" One of the kinder-looking ones, Alma, asks.

"Oh," And Nolan actually has to think of this one, because he and Travis came up with a story months ago. 

"So how did we meet?" Nolan had said, on his back with the phone on speaker.

He's in Beirut, dry wind blowing in through the window of his hotel.

"In that club, remember?" Travis said. Nolan thinks he's in Ontario now, but it could be Philadelphia, too—Nolan isn't keeping track of the days anymore.

"No, not the truth," Nolan laughed. "What story are we telling your friends?"

"Oh. I didn't think about that."

"Well, I split my time between Paris and New York, and it's not like you're ever in Paris."

"So I met you in New York?"

"Do you ever go down to New York in the summer? That could work for our timeline."

"I don't really tell anyone what I do during the summers, so it's whatever."

"So, New York, the summer… anything else?"

"Let's meet in Central Park. I've always wanted to meet someone there."

"Sure, Central Park," Nolan agrees, easily.

"It was warm, but not hot," Travis says, words soft and slow.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It was the morning, just starting to heat up, and there were so many people walking around, with their dogs and kids and stuff, and you were just over it. You were doing an outdoor shoot, and they had you walking around the city, sitting on cars and shit, and you were dog-tired. Which is, of course, when you ran into me."

Nolan had fallen asleep on the phone, the story of how he and Travis met still being told over the phone.

  
  


The first appearance goes great—they take some photos for instagram, Nolan gets to meet the rest of the team, and honestly, Nolan has a pretty great time. 

Nolan stays the night, sleeps in Travis' bed, and has to wake up at six and untangle himself from Travis so he can get ready to leave for the airport.

Travis, blinks awake as Nolan's coming out of the bathroom, and asks "Where are you goin?"

"I have a flight to catch," Nolan says, buttoning up his shirt. 

"Can I drive you?" Travis asks, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Sure, if you want," Nolan says.

"We'll grab food on the way over," TK says, throwing a sweatshirt at Nolan.

"What is this?" Nolan asks.

"It's a hoodie. Figured you should have one of mine."

"I wear a bigger size than you, remember?"

"Yeah, that's why I got a large instead of a medium from the shop," Travis says, as if that kind of foresight is normal for a hockey player.

They stop at a Wawa, grab coffee and two donuts, one for Nolan and one for Travis, and then Travis drops Nolan off at the airport.

Nolan's been taking planes since he was a kid, traveling from Winnipeg to Toronto to New York to Paris every year, and every time he has to leave a place he just walks into the terminal, just focused on what laid in front of him.

And maybe it's the beer, still in his system from last night, or the way Travis' hoodie feels draped over his shoulders, but as Nolan crosses through the doors of the airport, he turns around to look, just for a moment.

Travis is there, looking through the rolled down window of his truck, waving at Nolan. After a moment, Nolan raises a hand, and waves back.

_ nolanpatrickupdates: Nolan has been confirmed as the boyfriend of professional hockey player Travis Konecny. Nolan was also seen in the Philadelphia airport on Tuesday. _

They do a couple more meetings like that, flying from place to place, but eventually things slow down enough for Nolan to stay in Philadelphia for longer than a day.

Travis picks him up, early, with another donut and latte for Nolan.

"What happened to the truck?" Nolan asks once he hops into the Range Rover.

"I lent it to Morgan so he could move apartments, I have his car for the week," Travis says, slinging an arm around Nolan's shoulders so he can reverse.

"It's not a bad car," Nolan says, shifting his his seat.

"It would be better if it wasn't bright fucking orange," Travis grumbles. "It's like everywhere I go people know I'm a Flyer."

"I don't know," Nolan says, dropping his head against Travis' arm and looking at him over the edge of his sunglasses. "Maybe I like a little flash."

_ nolpatrick: [new instagram post] new city same guy @konecnyt11_

_nolanpatrickupdates: [Image] Nolan is back in Philadelphia with his boyfriend, Travis Konecny!_

The next time they meet up, it's in New York, for a summer event Nolan has. Travis hadn't been back to Canada yet—too busy doing awards and media for the NHL. They hadn't bothered to coordinate tonight, too busy flying from Anaheim (Travis) and from Paris (Nolan), so Nolan's not expecting much from Travis, maybe a t-shirt and a nice pair of jeans. Instead, TK shows up in a ridiculous patterned shirt that Nolan's _ sure _ he found in a thrift store, and shorts that look like they've seen better days.

"You look ridiculous," Nolan hisses as he kisses Travis on the cheek at baggage claim, but he can feel something in his heart sliding into place, like a lock finally closing shut. He feels warm all over.

"You gonna be able to handle me for a week?" Travis asks as they hop into the car, driver shooting Nolan a glance in the rearview mirror.

"The real question is whether or not you can handle doing events with me for a week," Nolan says.

"As long as I don't have to wear heels, I'm down for whatever."

"I dunno," Nolan smiles. "Alexander McQueen might have some opinions on your footwear."

Nolan's spent a lot of time in front of cameras, in front of people who look too long and too hard, and so he's developed a sort of sixth sense for people staring. Which is the only reason he has for leaning across the gap between him and Travis, and presses his lips to Travis'.

Nolan swears he meant to look quickly to make sure the driver saw it, but he's just a man. A man who is thoroughly impressed by how well Travis Konecny can kiss. 

They make it to the runway in time, and grab seats in the front and hold hands the whole time. Travis says it's for "believability," but Nolan doesn't mind the warm weight of Travis' hand in his.

_ konecnyt11: [new instagram post] @nolpatrick _👬💅💃

_ alexandermcqueen: Looking good! @nolpatrick @konecnyt11 _

_ kphayes12: @konecnyt11 hopefully you were taking notes… your suit game needs a step up! _

_ joelfarabee: wow no invite for me? _😔

Paris Fashion Week falls on the worst timing this year. It's the middle of Travis' season, right as the Flyers are in the push to playoffs, but it's not like Nolan can afford to miss the week. Or even part of it, for that matter—he's booked for six out of seven days, and the one day he has off he's meeting with Dior.

Nolan ends up leaving Philly a full week before PFW starts, and heads to New York to get all the clothes he'll need for the week. As much as he's walking in the shows, he has to arrive at the shows too. 

_ Travis (7:30 AM, CEST): [1 Image Attachment] sunny weather 🌞 _

_ Nolan Patrick (7:32 AM, CEST): are you already in tampa? _

_ Travis (7:33 AM, CEST): L.A. now _

_ Travis (7:34 AM, CEST): you still in ny? _

_ Nolan Patrick (7:34 AM, CEST): ny _

_Nolan Patrick (7:34 AM, CEST): for now_

_ Travis (7:35 AM, CEST): what's the weather in paris like? _

_ Nolan Patrick (7:35 AM, CEST): i dunno _

_ Nolan Patrick (7:36 AM, CEST): probably cold_

_ Travis (7:37 AM, CEST): where will you be staying? _

_ Travis (7:37 AM, CEST): like the addy _

Nolan flies into Paris on a Sunday and he's bombarded before he can even get a moment to himself. His agent needs him to sign some waivers, and a rep from Versace needs him to take some samples, and a reporter from the New York Times wants a statement. By the time he gets to the hotel, Nolan is tired, but more than that, lonely. 

He'd never thought he'd miss it, but Travis' house, with all the noise it contains, feels a world away. Maybe it is.

Nolan's only just sunk into the self-pity part of his night when he notices a message from Travis timestamped three hours ago. He opens it, and fumbles to turn his volume up when he realizes it's a voice message.

"Hey, I know you won't be done until later, but I have a game in 30 minutes so. I mailed you something, it should be in the lobby mailroom. You always say you don't want anything but hotels rooms are always too cold for you. See you Tuesday."

The hotel elevator could be moving through molasses for all Nolan knows, cause every second seems to go by slower than the one before it. He finally makes it to the mailroom and gets his package, rips it open once he's back in his hotel room. It's one of Travis' hoodies, team-issue and well-worn, the notes of Travis' detergent still lingering. Nolan pulls the hoodie on with shaky fingers and slides open his phone. Taps the play button on the message again, and again. And again.

_ Nolan Patrick (10:12 PM, CEST): thanks for the hoodie _

_ Nolan Patrick (10:13 PM, CEST): it still smells like you _

_ Travis (10:13 PM, CEST): no problem _

_ Travis (10:14 PM, CEST): is it weird if i say i miss you? _

_ Nolan Patrick (10:15, CEST): no _

The next day is Monday of Paris Fashion Week, and everyone is wearing the biggest name brands—Gucci, McQueen, Chanel—well, everyone except Nolan. Nolan opted into some Elie Saab sheer pants, but on the top, he's wearing a black, bleach-dyed Philadelphia Flyers hoodie. 

"Nolan! Who are you wearing?"

"Saab and NHL," Nolan says.

"NHL?" Another reporter asks. "Like, the National Hockey League?"

"Philadelphia Flyers, if you want to get more specific," Nolan says.

"Nolan?" A louder reporter asks. Nolan remembers them, how they had dyed their hair green at the same time he dyed his last year.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Does the 19 mean anything specific?"

"Yeah," Nolan throws over his shoulder as he heads into the venue. "Number 19's my boyfriend."

_@FantasticFashion: Nolan Patrick just now: number 19 [referring to the number on his sweatshirt] is my boyfriend #PFW #ParisFashionWeek_

_ Travis Konecny (4:34 PM, EST): i'm outside terminal A east _

_ Travis Konecny (4:34 PM, EST): see u soon! _

Nolan gets back from Paris Fashion Week and heads straight to Travis' house, letting himself in with the spare key that he knows Travis keeps under a fake rock. Nolan had booked an early flight, hoping to get to Travis' house and then get to morning skate in time to get some photos for PR, so he changes into a barely-there lingerie top, puts on some jeans, and borrows one of Travis' team-issue windbreakers. 

"You look nice," Alma greets when he sees her.

"Well one of us has to look good for pictures, and it's not Travis," Nolan jokes, hissing as his fingers catch in a tangle.

"Do you want me to put it up for you?" She asks, already moving to stand behind him.

Nolan agrees, the feeling of someone else's fingers in his hair a familiar sensation. Alma puts his hair into a bun, leaving some strands out to frame his face.

He thanks her, then heads down to ice level to heckle Travis.

"Teeks, your boy is here!" Kevin calls across the ice, and Travis starts skating towards him, skates cutting clear lines in the ice.

"Do you want to come on? Later?" Travis asks through the glass.  
"What?" Nolan says, trying to hear Travis over the noise of 20-something hockey players practicing.

"Come on the ice after practice with me. It'll be fun," Travis yells. Nolan gives him a thumbs-up.

Nolan hangs around, emails his agent back, says yes to a Marc Jacobs shoot, and posts an instagram story so everyone knows he's at practice. Then a Flyers employee comes to take him to the dressing room so he can see Travis.

Nolan stands outside the locker room for a minute, feeling out of place and awkward in the dim hallway. Then Claude Giroux steps outside, spots him, and waves him inside.

Inside the locker room is strangely familiar, whether it's from youth hockey in Winnipeg or the clamor of a modeling set. He gets waves from some players and strange looks from others, and then he's accosted by the giant presence that is Kevin Hayes.

"Nolan!" Kevin booms, smile already breaking across his face. "So good to finally meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too," Nolan says out of instinct, shaking Kevin's hand when it's offered to him.

"I would hug you but I'm all wet from the shower," Kevin explains, taking a towel to his hair. "Honestly, we were starting to think Teeks had made you up."

"The team met him last month!" Travis protests, hair sticking up from sweat. "It's not my fault you were busy that day!"

And then they're off, trading insults and chirps back and forth until the locker room's pretty much empty. 

Nolan finds an empty stall and sits in it, waits for Travis to be done yelling at Kevin before he asks "So, about that skate?"

Travis snaps to attention, running off to grab skates that Nolan can wear from the athletic trainer.

The two of them head out to the ice, arena pretty much empty, save a few stragglers.

"Have you skated before?" Travis asks, stepping onto the ice.

Nolan doesn't say anything, just steps onto the ice after him and lets the way he glides comfortably around the rink do the talking.

Nolan has always preferred to be quiet as he skates—he didn't often need to be loud when he played hockey as a kid, especially with the loud Winnipeg winds howling whenever he played outside. It's the same now, on Philadelphia ice, Travis keeping up a steady commentary as they skate around the rink. It's comfortable, in the way that very little is these days, like sinking onto your mattress after a long trip or pulling on a pair of sweatpants fresh out of the dryer.

When Nolan checks his twitter the next day, his mentions are full of videos snapped at practice yesterday. One from the official Flyers account, of him and Travis skating, one from a fan of Alma doing his hair, and another one that Kevin took, of Travis holding Nolan's hand as he steps off the ice. 

"The kids are alright 😉" Kevin's captioned it, and Nolan, against all reason, scrolls down to see the comments. It's actually a fairly nice comment section, full of rainbow flags and congratulations for Travis. 

It makes Nolan happy to see the support Travis is getting for coming out. Travis is nothing but kind. He deserves a little bit of kindness back.

_ nolan (7:43 AM, EST): what are people wearing to g's party tmrw? _

_ Travis Konecny (7:56 AM, EST): idk _

_ Travis Konecny (7:56 AM, EST): aren't u on the west coast rn? go 2 sleep! _

_ nolan (7:57 AM, EST): make me _

When Nolan gets back to Philadelphia next, he heads straight to a team dinner at the Giroux's. Everyone keeps staring at him, and he's struggling to figure out why until Ryanne walks over with Gavin on her hip.

"Nolan, your hair!" She says, reaching out towards his head. Nolan drops his head so it's easier for her to reach, but stands back up, startled, when the strand of hair she combs out of his hair is silver.

"Oh, god," Nolan says, shaking his head like a wet dog. "I forgot it looked like that."

"Do you want me to put it up?" Ryanne asks, hand light on Nolan's elbow. "Come with me."

Ryanne takes him to the master bedroom and sits him in a chair, then places Gavin in his lap.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" She says.

Nolan starts bouncing Gavin up and down on his lap as Ryanne fiddles with his hair.

"There. It's in a chignon," Ryanne says after a while, the French effortless in her mouth.

"Thanks, Ryanne," Nolan says, starting to stand.

"No, wait! Your ears are pierced, right?" She says, going over to her dresser.

"Yeah, why?"

"Here," Ryanne says, plopping earrings into his hand. They're long but not too long, gold Flyers logos at the ends. Nolan slides them in without a second thought, puts Gavin on his hip, and heads back out to the party with Ryanne.

They've just walked into the kitchen when Nolan spots Travis from across the room and stops, readjusting Gavin on his hip.

It feels different, this time, as Travis walks across the room to him, when Nolan leans down so Travis can brush a kiss across his cheek.

"You look good in Flyers earrings and with a baby on your hip," Travis says.

"Yeah, Konecny?" Nolan smirks. "You gonna wife me up or something?"

"Something like that," Travis says, sliding an arm around Nolan's waist.

"I want a pretty ring," Nolan says later in the car.

"What?" Travis asks, steering the car around a turn.

"I want a pretty ring. When you marry me." Nolan might be a little tipsy. It's not out of the realm of possibility.

"Okay. Any specific brands?" Travis asks, voice soft.

"I want one like my mom has."

"Okay, Nolan," Travis says.

"Travis, I'm sleepy."

"Close your eyes, Nols, I'll wake you up when we get back to the house."

"You promise you're gonna get me a nice ring?" Nolan asks, turning to stare at Travis in the driver's seat.

"I promise," Travis says, interlocking his pinky with Nolan's. "I'll get you whatever ring you want."

_ Travis Konecny (2:36 AM, EST): Where'd you get your ring for Ryanne? _

_ captain G (2:40 AM, EST): Why are you using capitals and correct grammar. What's wrong. _

_ captain G (2:41 AM, EST): Holy shit are you proposing _

_ captain G (2:41 AM, EST): [1 Missed Call] _

_ captain G (2:42 AM, EST): TRAVIS??? _

_ hayezie (2:50 AM, EST): why is g texting me about u rn _😂😂😂

_ hayezie (2:50 AM, EST): ARE U FUCKIGN PROPOSINGG 2 NOLS>>???? _

_ hayezie (2:51 AM, EST): WTF?????? _

"Hey," Nolan says, flopping onto the bed, feeling his romper crumple beneath him. It's this ridiculous Ralph & Russo rainbow thing, and there are more ruffles on it than Nolan thought was humanly possible.

"Hey yourself," Travis says, shuffling into frame in a hotel bathrobe.

"What was your day like?" Nolan asks, kicking his feet up so his legs are bent at the knees.

"Are those boots shiny?" Travis asks, and then pauses. "Wait, what are you wearing?"

Nolan pushes himself off the bed to stand, and does a little twirl, feeling the cool air on the top of his thighs. God, this romper is short.

"What do you think?" Nolan laughs.

"I uh, I like it."

"Don't lie. You can say it looks ridiculous."

"No!" Travis says quickly. "You look really good. I like your hair."

"Ugh," Nolan says, tugging at the still-silver hair. "I should ask Ryanne where she gets her hair done in Philly."

"I can ask for you," Travis offers.

"That means a lot, Teeks. Thanks."

"Did you walk in that today?"

"What?"

"The outfit."

"No, attended the Versace runway. Just had to sit there and look pretty."

"How's it going over there?"

"New York Fashion Week? Crazy, but okay."

Nolan's had to define his boundaries since he was a kid—you can put me in that, but not that. You can bring me here, but not there. Nolan's not sure when his last borders fell, where exactly he dropped them, but right now he can't bring himself to care. He shrugs off the romper, the tie around his waist stopping it from dropping to the floor.

"Woah," Travis says.

"I know. It's not pretty," Nolan says. He fell on a staircase earlier that week, when a heel snapped below his foot. The designer had apologized profusely, but it's not the first time Nolan's gotten bruised on the job. And it's certainly not bad enough to warrant anything but a little bit of concealer, and that's only if Nolan's wearing something that shows off his torso.

"No, it's not that," Travis says, sounding distracted.

Nolan shivers, the cool air of the hotel room finally hitting him. He reaches down, inside the romper, and unties the string holding it up.

The romper falls to the floor and Nolan turns, finds his robe draped over the chair and drags it on, not bothering to close the front.

"Is that… is that lace?" Travis asks, his voice suddenly raspy.

"Huh? Oh," Nolan says, sliding a finger under the waistband of his panties, watching the lace top snap back against his skin. "Yeah."

The panties are this tight, tiny little thing that leave very little to the imagination. Nolan had been gifted them a while ago, by an underwear designer he worked with on one shoot. He didn't like her shoot all that much, but the clothes are nice. He kept them. 

Nolan isn't drunk. That's important to mention, in this moment, as he performs a one-man strip show for Travis Konecny over Facetime.

"Nolan, what're you doing?" Travis laughs nervously.

Nolan walks towards the bed, feet heavy on the hotel room floor.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Travis says, so he doesn't.

_ Nolan (11:43 PM, EST): see you tomorrow _

_ Travis Konecny (11:45 PM, EST): can't wait _

Nolan flies into Philly on Tuesday night, and passes out in the passenger seat of Travis' car. He wakes up in Travis' bed, with a head full of cotton and a dry mouth.

"Hey, sunshine," Travis says, walking into the bedroom with a glass of water and a rattling bottle of pills.

"Morning," Nolan grumbles.

"I'm not complaining about the phone sex, but,"

"Ugh," Nolan says.

"We have to talk," Travis says, hand landing on his shoulder.

"Ambushing me before breakfast doesn't seem very fair," Nolan says. "I need my beauty sleep."

"No you don't," Travis says easily. 

"Ugh," Nolan repeats.

"You don't have to say anything, okay? I just, I've been getting the feeling that this is different than what we thought it was. What we agreed on, I guess."

"What?" It really is too early for this.

"It's not fake to me. Not anymore," Travis says simply, flopping onto his back.

"Oh," Nolan says, though it feels less voluntary and more like something punched out of him. Like he's just been pounded into the boards and all the air was slammed out of his lungs.

"Oh?"

Nolan is a model, but at the end of the day, he's a performer. He pretends to be above everyone else as he struts down the runway, pretends to fit into the distinct and specialized shoots he's booked for, and pretends to like the designers who hire him. He's performed for a lot of people, recited his lines—"Thank you so much for this opportunity. No, I can walk fine in these hells. No, I'm not cold."—but for some reason, admitting to Travis that he feels the same way is harder than all of that.

"I guess. It's not fake to me either," Nolan grits out, arm covering his rapidly reddening cheeks.

Travis launches himself at Nolan then, landing bodily across his stomach.

"Fuck," Nolan grunts.

"I mean, if you want to," Travis says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Nolan laughs, and then it's his turn to tackle Travis to the bed. There isn't a lot more talking after that.

_RT @Philadelphia Flyers: @Spotify: Listen to our new celeb playlist, straight from the phone of Travis Konecny!_

_ @grittyknitty: OMG how cute is this—travis making a "long-distance" playlist for him and his bf to listen to when they're apart!!!!_

After they're official (and what a word to describe whatever the fuck is going on between them), Nolan starts taking Travis out more, dragging him to clubs and parties and events. Travis honestly didn't know there were so many things for models to do, or so many people to meet.

It's at one of these model parties—invitations reserved for high fashion models, designers, and people who were simply rich enough to pay their way in—that Travis meets Tyler. 

"Travis, meet Tyler," Nolan says, tipsy and touchy. He sits down on one of the softer loveseats and drags both of them down with him, fingers tangled in their shirts.

"So Tyler, what do you do?" Travis asks, angling for casual and missing it by a mile.

"I used to help restore old items," And Nolan lets out a snort at that, how can he not. "But now I mostly consult for other experts in the field."

"What Tyler means," Nolan drawls, draping himself across Travis' lap. "Is that he used to steal stuff and now he just helps _ other _ people steal stuff."

"Are you serious?" Travis asks, eyes on Tyler.

"Yeah!" Nolan laughs, and gets up to go find another neon-colored drink, leaving Tyler and Travis alone.

"He was serious," Tyler says, taking a sip of his drink, legs spread wide and one arm thrown across the back of the couch.

"What?" Travis asks, pretending not to hear.

"I'm a thief. Does that make you uncomfortable?" Tyler says, looking out at the throng of people.

"Like, a pickpocket thief or a Ocean's 11 thief? Cause I feel like they're two different things," Travis jokes.

"They're not actually all that different, once you think about it," Tyler says, sharp smile on display. "Sometimes the best heists are the simplest ones."

"You're serious," Travis realizes.

"You weren't?" Tyler laughs, but it's hard, brittle. "Here, take a look at this. You remember the Isabella Gardner heist?"

"Yeah," Travis says, thinking back to the one true crime podcast he heard about it on.

"That was my Uncle. Remember the crown that was stolen in 2000?"

"Yeah," Travis says. "Everyone always thought it was the same people behind both heists, but no one ever found concrete proof."

"The crown was my first. This is me, two months ago." And Tyler finally slides the phone over, Travis finally sees Tyler for what he is. It's a grainy, dark photo, the flash illuminating the gems and jewels on the crown Tyler has on. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," Travis breathes.

"You don't have to worry about it," Tyler smiles.

"How do you know Nolan? Is he a criminal?" Travis asks.

"No, no," Tyler laughs. "He needed something done, and I've always liked fashion, so I helped him out."

"What…"

"You don't want to know, not really."

"I'm serious about Nolan," Travis starts.

"And I'm serious about this. Drop it." There's a flash of something—steel, maybe—in Tyler's eye, and Travis follows his advice. 

Nolan comes back eventually, striding through the crowd, two neon drinks in his hands.

"My boys!" He calls, and Travis is pretty sure Nolan's more than halfway to sloshed.

Nolan flops down onto the couch with more grace than Travis has in his little finger, and buries his head in Travis' shoulder.

"I'll leave you to it," Tyler smiles, throwing a coat over his shoulder and striding into the mess of the crowd. 

It doesn't take long for Travis and Nolan to decide to leave, but Travis takes his time once they're outside, presses Nolan to the bricks and leans in for a kiss. They order an Uber, then make out against the side of a building until it arrives. As they head towards the Uber, something catches Travis' eye, and he turns to look. Nolan's eyes follow, and stop on a man with scraggly brown hair being shoved against the side of a parked car.

"What's happening over there?" Travis asks.

"Get in the car," Nolan says to Travis, already moving towards the car and unbuttoning his peacoat, letting the sheer fabric of his shirt show off his body.

"Hey, stop!" Nolan calls at the policeman. "That's my friend!"

"Well, sir," The policeman says, scanning his eyes over Nolan's torso. "Your friend was sneaking into a party."

"He was invited to the party," Nolan sighs. "Can you let him go please?"

"Well, it's not actually the party bit that bothers me. It's the fact that he's a wanted thief in four countries," The policeman says, a gleam in his eye appearing.

"Technically none of that's been proven, and there are no warrants for my arrest," Tyler interjects, voice loud in the dark night.

"Come on, Tyler," The officer laughs. "Just because you're good enough to cover your tracks doesn't mean you didn't do it."

"So you admit I'm good," Tyler says, a grin playing across his face.

"What's your name, officer?" Nolan asks, an arm around Tyler's waist as he leads Tyler away from the cop.

"I'm a detective from Interpol, actually,' The detective smiles, acidic.

"His name's Dylan Larkin," Tyler laughs, consonants slurred. "And he's my worst enemy."

"Well, Dylan Larkin," Nolan says as he steps into the car. "It was nice meeting you."

"See you soon, Larks," Tyler says, ducking into the car.

Dylan just salutes as they drive off, a resigned smile on his face.

_ Unknown Number (1:23 AM, EST): Nols seems to like U. Take good care of him. _

_ Travis Konecny (1:25 AM, EST): who is this? _

_ Unknown Number (1:25 AM, EST): Tyler. But don't bother saving this # it's a burner lmao. _

_ Travis Konecny (1:26 AM, EST): i will _

_ Travis Konecny (1:26 AM, EST): take good care of nolan, i mean. _

Nolan gets injured in March, tumbles off a stage during practice and breaks his ankle. Travis is given the day off practice to see Nolan in New York, and they fly home to Philly together, Nolan's ankle safe and secure in a splint, crutches in the seat next to the window.

"You sure you're okay?" Travis asks, Nolan sitting in his bed.

"It's not the first time I've broken something," Nolan says.

"Model life really that treacherous?"

"I've broken toes, fingers, and I have a whole mess of sprains from walking runways."

"What's your worst story?" Travis asks, settling next to Nolan in bed.

"I got a concussion once. Real bad, had migraines for six months after."

Seriously?" And when Nolan looks over, Travis is sad, brows pushed together in the center of his forehead.

"It sucked, but I'm okay now," Nolan reminds him, reaching out and lightly grabbing Travis' wrist. Nolan tugs until Travis is laying on his chest, ear flat against his collarbone.

"This isn't hurting you?" Travis asks, a hand fiddling with the end of Nolan's hair.

"I'm okay, Teeks," Nolan says, and Travis can hear the smile in his voice.

Nolan stays as long as he can, even after he gets the splint off, but eventually the cold streets of New York City call him home. And then before Travis knows it, Nolan's schedule is full of flights, shoots, and fittings, and Travis finds himself wondering where he fits in.

_ teeks (2:10 PM, EST): hey i'm outside terminal a _

_ Nolan Patrick (2:15 PM, EST): k _

It's been a long month, flying from Philadelphia to L.A. to Paris to New York to Rome and back to Philadelphia. One of those months that leaves Nolan empty and cold, the ones he hated when he was a kid. Now, it's just routine, existing for other people. 

He's not sure what makes him angry at Travis—maybe Travis woke him up too early, or dragged him to one too many team events, or was too loud when he was picking him up from the airport. All Nolan knows is this, the simple fact of rage burning away in his chest. 

"What the fuck are we doing, Travis?" Nolan asks, bitter.

"What?" Travis asks, turning away from the stove.

"I'm a model, but I'm not stupid."

"What the fuck are you _ talking _ about?"

"How is this supposed to continue? I'm halfway around the world half the time, and you're in Philly for half the year and in Ontario for the other."

"It's not like you couldn't visit me—"

"I have a _ career _, Travis! Independent of you!"

"I could pay for both of us," Travis says, and that's when Nolan realizes Travis doesn't get it at all.

"I don't need your money, Travis, Jesus fucking Christ. I have a career, I make money. I need you to get out of my way so I can continue to have a career."

"So that's what I am?" Travis asks, brittle and mean. "A roadblock? Something you have to get around?"

"Trav—"

"You said it, not me. You know, most people would be _ thrilled _ to be with an NHL player, right?"

"I'm not most people," Nolan says. "You know that."

"I don't think I know you well at all," Travis says. "Since you seem to think that people are obstacles."

"That's not what I meant," Nolan tries.

"Well you said it. Jesus."

"I just. It's not easy, being with you."

"Then why don't you leave?" Travis asks. "Since that what you seemed to be doing anyway."

"Is that what you want?"

"Why not?" Travis says, bravado spread across his face. "Maybe then I'd have to stop pretending to know who the fuck Paolo Sebastian is."

They stand still for a minute, the kitchen silent. 

"I'm leaving," Nolan says, shocked. He grabs his bag from where it's thrown on the ground, and pulls on his coat.

"Wait, Nolan," Travis says, moving to stand in front of the door.

"Fuck you, Travis," Nolan says, praying Travis doesn't see the tears streaking down his face. He shoulders past Travis and out the door, walking down the street and ordering an Uber.

_ Travis Konecny (10:12 PM): i'm sorry. i was being a dick. _

_ patso (10:14 PM): it's okay. i was too. _

_ Travis Konecny (10:17 PM): i still like you a lot _

_ patso (10:18 PM): me too. _

_ patso (10:18 PM) but i can't come home yet. i meant what i said, i need to focus on work again. _

_ Travis Konecny (10:19 PM): i get it. i wouldn't want you to give up work. _

_ Travis Konecny (10:19 PM): i DON'T want you to give up work. it's important to you. _

_ patso (10:20 PM): i won't be in philly for a while. it's okay if you want to find someone else. _

_ Travis Konecny (10:22 PM): i don't want anybody else _

_ patso (10:33 PM): me neither _

Even though they didn't really break up, the team soon learns that something's changed between Travis and Nolan. Everyone's nice about it, in their own way—G has him over for dinner, Kevin takes him to top golf, and Oskar takes him for sushi.

And the rookies, well, they do it in their own _ special _ rookie style. Which is a polite way of saying that the next time they're in LA, they make him do a bar crawl.

"I'm too old for this," Travis says to the huddle of rookies in front of him.

"No, you were too domesticated. Now that you're single again, there's nothing stopping you from being crowned bar crawl king again," Joel says, and then gets back into the huddle.

There's maybe two minutes more of quiet arguing, and then they all stand up decisively.

"The first bar's this way," Morgan says.

They walk down the street, getting equal amounts of glares from the too-fashionable L.A.-residents and appreciative looks from the new L.A.-residents. 

"What the fuck _ is _ this place?" Travis asks once they're inside, the inside of the bar too dark to see much of.

"It's supposed to be this underground place. There are stairs over there," Joel says, heading for a neon arrow pointing down.

They head down the stairs and emerge in a bright, loud club, bass shaking the walls.

They send Travis over to get drinks, and that's when Travis spots him from across the club.

Nolan, leaning against a wall, drink in one hand and phone in the other. He's wearing this black t-shirt, tucked into see-through white shorts that leave very little to the imagination. (Travis doesn't need imagination. He knows what Nolan looks like under them, even without the see-through aspect. Knows what his dick looks like hard, flushed and curved up towards his stomach.) 

"Fuck," Morgan says, suddenly behind him. "Isn't that…"

"Yes," Travis says, before locking eyes with Nolan. Travis offers a hand in a shy wave, and Nolan rolls his eyes before waving him over.

Travis walks over to him, dodging drunk club-goers and frazzled waiters.

"Hey," Nolan greets.

"Hey yourself," Travis says, instantly regretting it.

"You in town for long?" Nolan asks, taking a sip of his drink and licking the rim.

"Not really," Travis shrugs. "Just flew in today, game tomorrow, and then we're off to Anaheim."

"You free tonight?" Nolan asks, not bothering to disguise the way his eyes drag over Travis' body or catch on his lips.

"For you? Sure."

They barely make it to a bathroom stall before they're slamming into each other, Nolan's mouth a constant press against Travis'. Travis knows that whatever Nolan's wearing is probably on loan, so he lets himself be pressed against the cool plastic of the stall, tries not to scrunch his fingers into the fabric of his shorts. He fails after a minute, untucking Nolan's shirt and running his fingers under the waistband of Nolan's shorts.

"Wait, not here," Nolan says, hand fisted in the back of Travis's shirt.

"Huh?" 

"I want you to fuck me," Nolan whispers, lips against Travis' ear. "And I'm not doing that in a bar bathroom."

Travis has no complaints with that sentence, just shoves Nolan out of the stall and follows close behind. 

_ Travis Konecny (10:47 PM): don't wait up lol _

_ Travis Konecny (10:47 PM): i'll be back for morning skate _😎

_ frosty (10:50 PM): okay lmao _

_ frosty (10:50 PM): wait until hayezie hears this one _

_ frosty (10:50 PM): #finedoutofyourmind _

_ Travis Konecny (11:31 PM): #WORTHIT _

Travis has to sneak out of the hotel room before Nolan's awake, so he leaves him a note scrawled on hotel stationery. He barely makes it to morning skate on time, and is, in fact, fined out of his goddamn mind. 

"Hope it was worth it," Kevin says as they strip after skate's over.

"He is," Travis grins.

_ nols (7:19 PM, EST): see u soon _

_ Travis Konecny (7:20 PM, EST): love u_

_Travis Konecny (7:21 PM, EST): uh_

_Travis Konecny (7:21 PM, EST): i mean_

_Travis Konecny (7:21 PM, EST): well_

_Travis Konecny (7:22 PM, EST): fuck_

_nols (7:22 PM, EST): trav_

_Travis Konecny (7:23 PM, EST): yea?_

_nols (7:23 PM, EST): i love you too_

"You know what my favorite photo of you is?" Travis asks, sated and sleepy after sex.

"What?" Nolan asks, rolling onto his stomach.

Travis grabs his phone from the nightstand, and swipes through it with the ease of someone who's looked at this photo hundreds of times.

"Here," Travis says, and turns his phone around so Nolan can see it.

It's a photo Nolan's never seen before, of him leaning forward to listen to something Gav is saying. In the photo, Nolan is wearing jeans and a flannel over a simple tee—Travis' flannel, Nolan realizes with a rush of warmth. His cheeks are ruddy red, and his hair's muddy brown. He looks entirely ordinary—no makeup, complicated jewelry, or fancy clothing to separate him from anybody else. 

Everyone is interested in the show Nolan puts on, the way he ducks his eyes and smiles, or looks prettily detached from everything. They don't care about what happens after the spotlights turn off, after Nolan wipes away the makeup.

Well. Everyone but Travis. Somehow, the completely ordinary Nolan is the one Travis likes. Likes the most, actually. 

_ Nolan Patrick (11:23 PM, PST): flight is booked for next week _

_ teeks (11:24 PM, PST): sick _

_ Nolan Patrick (11:24 PM, PST): aren't u in philly rn? _

_ teeks (11:25 PM, PST): yea why _

_ Nolan Patrick (11:26 PM, PST): go tf to sleep _

_ teeks (11:26 PM, PST): make me _

_ Travis Konecny (8:30 AM, CEST): just got thru customs, see u soon! _

_ nols (8:32 AM, CEST): i have two minutes so _

_ nols (8:32 AM, CEST): love u, see u after the show _

_ nols (8:32 AM, CEST): if u have time will u get me a croissant from the bakery next to the hotel _

_ Travis Konecny (8:33 AM, CEST): good luck w ur show, and sure np _

_ Travis Konecny (8:33 AM, CEST): love u too _

Nothing changes. Nolan is still working his ass off for whatever time he has left, and Travis is still playing in Philadelphia. They still miss flights, and each other. They still fight.

Nolan still hates seeing himself in mirrors, except now he'll linger just to see the red marks Travis' mouth leaves behind. Travis still plays a primarily-straight sport, except now he sees more pride tape on the ice than he ever did before. Nolan still works, still flies all over the world for runways and catwalks, except now during the summers you can always spot a backwoods Ontario boy in the front row. Travis is still alone in his house in Philadelphia, except for the times when he gets home to shoes discarded in the entryway, a bag thrown on the table, and a tall, rosy-cheeked, long-haired boy in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had such a fun time writing this, seriously. what started as late night yelling over twitter dms turned into the longest fic i've ever published on here. 
> 
> all the designers mentioned in this story are real people, with real, gorgeous clothing, especially elie saab. the research for this was probably the best part of writing this story. again, thank you to amy for sending me pics of outfits she wanted nolan to wear, and screaming when i sent some back.
> 
> please, please be sure to let me know if you liked the tyler/dylan part, as i am currently working on a story that has them as the central characters in this au. it's a little bit of ocean's 11 meets the raven cycle meets the thief lord. 
> 
> as always, i try to respond to comments on time, but i am also someone who rarely checks his email, so forgive me lmao


	2. kiss me thru the phone (codas part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all the stuff that didn't fit into the original work, and some stuff that i wanted to add based on comments and reactions to the fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: homophobia and other anti-gay sentiment
> 
> these codas are centered around text conversations and social media posts, so if you didn't like that in the original work, you won't like this!

_ 3:36 AM, EST _

_ Ryanne Giroux: Hey, do you know if Travis' boyfriend is Nolan Patrick? _

_ Ryanne Giroux: Like THE Nolan Patrick _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: i mean his name is nolan patrick _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: is he famous or something? _

_ Ryanne Giroux: Why are you awake _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: why are YOU awake _

_ Ryanne Giroux: Kevin, I have an infant, _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: oh right haha _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: i'm facetiming with brady and jimmy _

_ Ryanne Giroux: Tell them I say hi! _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: will do _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: so i looked nolan up _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: is he rlly famous ?? _

_ Ryanne Giroux: I think so? Like, he's a model from NY _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: from the big _🍎

_ Kevin Hayezzz: he's kinda hot _

_ Ryanne Giroux: I mean, obviously _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: jeez, how'd teeks bag this guy? nolan actually looks like he has a life _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: and like, abs, maybe _

_ Ryanne Giroux: Do you think I should message him? _

_ Ryanne Giroux: Nolan, I mean. On instagram. _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: i don't see why not, you know? _

_ Kevin Hayezzz: it's always nice to hear from someone _

_ 5:27 PM, EST _

_ GROUPCHAT: Doin' it for the girls and the gays _

_ Alma: WINE! NIGHT! TONIGHT! _

_ [One Group Facetime Call] _

_ Alma: Nolan I know you're in Paris but I checked the time conversion it's only 10 PM there _

_ Nolan: i'm in my fucking uber give me a second _

_ Nolan: jesus that wasn't supposed to sound as angry as it does one sec _

_ Ryanne: Sorry it's date night tonight!!! The one night we could find a babysitter for Gav _😓

_ Gina: It's okay Ryanne we still love you _

_ Gina: But if you're not on the next wine night call we're disowning you as a better half _

_ Ryanne: Captain's wife privileges! _

_ Alma: Even captains can be traded _

_ Gina: ALMA!!! _

_ Nolan: JSFOSHISLFNKS _

_ Joel: hey you guys forgot to unadd me _

_ Ryanne: Joel, what do you mean? You're still a WAG even if Morgan got sent down _

_ Joel: haha very funny _

_ Joel: can i still come to wine night _

_ nolpatrick: [one new instagram post] what does a dog do with its tail? _

_ @flyerzfan19: Wag? I don't get the joke. _

_ @kphayes12: @konecnyt11 TRAVIS COME GET YOUR BOY _

_ @ryannegiroux: SUCH a fun afternoon _ 😊_t__hanks for letting Gav mess up your nails LOL _

_ @konecnyt11: @kphayes12 what i think he looks hot _

_ @ihatethepens28: @konecnyt11 That's gay _

_ @konecnyt11: @ihatethepens28 yea that's kinda the point _

_ 11:36 PM, EST _

_ Joel _ 🐝 _ : how did u know u wanted to be with tk? _

_ Nolan: are u having a crisis _

_ Joel _ 🐝 _ : maybe _

_ Nolan: well _

_ Nolan: i liked him the first time i met him _

_ Joel _ 🐝 _ : at the shoot? _

_ Nolan: sure _

_ Nolan: but it wasn't like we were perfect for each other _

_ Nolan: we fought a lot, at the beginning _

_ Joel _ 🐝 _ : seriously? _

_ Nolan: yea for sure _

_ Nolan: trav thought i wanted to be taken care of, and that was the last thing i wanted _

_ Nolan: plus he had to come out, so that was added stress _

_ Joel _ 🐝 _ : was it hard for him _

_ Joel _ 🐝 _ : to come out, i mean _

_ Nolan: i think you'd have to ask him that _

_ @konecnyt11: Got to go to the @ElieSaabWorld show in Paris with Nolan this weekend! Now, back to Port Stanley for some alone time _😉

_ [Replying to @konecnyt11] @FlyerzBunny: U should stop this pretend show of being gay and be with a real woman. _

_ @kingofphilly: First you say you're gay now you start attending fashion shows? What's next, crossdressing? _

_ @JoelEmbiid: Glad to see another Philly player investing in some FASHION! HMU when you get back to Philly and _

_ we'll trade style tips_

_ @carterharter: GAY RIGHTS!!!!_

_PRIVATE MESSAGE, 8:26 PM EST_

_@mackenzienandcheese: hey, i know this will probably get buried in your other dms, but i wanted to tell you how much it meant to me when you came out. i'm the only queer player on my lacrosse college team and i felt super alone, so to see you come out and continue to play at the level you have was really inspiring. tomorrow is my combine for the WPLL, and i'm gonna be wearing your shirsey underneath my pinney. thanks. _

_ @konecnyt11: i'm happy to hear that i inspired you, and even happier to hear that you're pursuing a career in professional sports. if you get drafted to philly, let me know—i'd be more than happy to meet up with you this fall! _

_ 2:37 PM, EST _

_ Nolan: where are u _

_ Trav: out _

_ Nolan: ...ok _

_ Trav: sorry that sounded weird _

_ Trav: i'm helping kevin get stuff for jimmy and brady _

_ Nolan: oh _

_ Nolan: cool _

_ Trav: do u need me for smth? _

_ Nolan: actually _

_ Nolan: if u can will u stop by the store and grab some oat milk? i ran out this morning _

_ Trav: sure _

_ Trav: the chobani? _

_ Nolan: u know me so well _

_ Trumpetandhorn: Hey Travis! Your order (White Cliffs 14K Yellow Gold Ring) has shipped! The latest it will arrive is by 3/23. Thanks for your order! _

  
  


_ 7:47 AM, EST _

_ GROUPCHAT: Joel Farabee is a WAG 5Ever _

_ Nolan: [one image attachment] _

_ Nolan: 💍💍💍 _

_ Ryanne: HOLY SHIT _

_ Nolan: FSHOFHSPS RYANNE YOU SWORE _

_ Alma: CONGRATS NOLAN!!!! _

_ Laurence: !!!!! CONGRATS NOLAN!!! _

_ Gina: NO FUCKING WAY!!!!! _

_ Ryanne: Who asked who??? _

_ Nolan: travis asked me! he said later that he wanted to do it at dinner tonight but he couldn't wait lmao _

_ Laurence: That's so cute omg _

_ Alma: Odds are Nolan gets Saab to dress him for the wedding _

_ Nolan: okay so even if you're right, fuck you _

_ Gina: PLEASE GET SAAB FOR THE WEDDING _

_ Gina: I will literally steal Shayne's salary for a Saab gown _

_ Joel: FUCKING RIGHTS NOLS!!!! _

_ Joel: CONGRATS!!!! _

_ Joel: who's elie saab tho _

_ Ryanne: Joel you're uncultured _

_ Joel: okay i looked him up _

_ Joel: patty can i be your best man so i can wear some of his stuff _

_ Ryanne: _😂😂😂

_ @NHLFlyers: [retweet from @BroadStreetBabes] so glad i got this video _ 😂 _ nolan patrick "proposes" to joel farabee with a ring-pop and asks him to be his best man this summer. [one video attachment] _

_ 9:13 AM, EST _

_ Ryanne: Hey, thought you might want the name of my wedding photographer! She was absolutely fantastic and the footage is still my favorite thing. _

_ Nolan: thank you so much!!! _

_ Ryanne: Also thought you might want this—one of the dads from Gav's school adopted his second kid, and he said this agency was fantastic. _

_ Nolan: you just want another baby on the team _

_ Ryanne: You got me lmao I miss Gav's baby phase so much!!! _

_ Ryanne: Please please please get a baby (if you want to) I will babysit _

_ Nolan: ....the tab is open! _

_ Ryanne: Oh? _

_ Nolan: i'm not saying anything else lmao i know you _

_ @BroadStreetBabes: don't know how i got it, but i got video of tk asking kevin hayes to be his man of honor at his wedding! [one video attachment] _

_[Replying to @BroadStreetBabes] @nhlparson: literally the luckiest person alive!!! first u get the vid of nolan "proposing" and now u get the one of tk!!!_

_ 11:34 PM, CEST _

_ Trav: hey so i was looking through your nightstand for the lube _

_ Trav: and, uh _

_ Trav: did i accidentally agree to adopting a kid??? _

_ Nolan: what? _

_ Nolan: omg u found the papers _

_ Trav: uh YEAH i found the papers _

_ Nolan: okay this wasn't how i wanted to have this convo _

_ Trav: wtf _

_ Trav: i'm not mad i promise _

_ Trav: i just want to know what's going on _

_ Nolan: to be honest _

_ Nolan: i've been like. thinking about taking a break _

_ Nolan: karlie kloss style _

_ Nolan: i have an offer from alice + olivia to manage things from the model's side and help make the company more model-friendly _

_ Nolan: i could be based out of philly _

_ Trav: are u serious _

_ Nolan: yea _

_ Nolan: do u not want that _

_ Trav: no i want that _

_ Trav: if its what YOU want _

_ Trav: i don't want u to quit modeling just bc u think i want kids _

_ Trav: i can wait _

_ Nolan: i'm ready to slow down _

_ Nolan: i'm not stopping, i'm just _

_ Nolan: taking some time for myself _

_ Trav: ugh come home already _

_ Nolan: ? _

_ Trav: i want to fuck you and then take you to home depot so we can look at paint samples for a nursery _

_ Trav: but both of those require you being in philly _

_ Nolan: don't say stuff like that it makes me want to hop on a flight right now _

_ Trav: do it u won't _

_ Nolan: bet_

_nytimes.com/sections/arts_

** _The Models Turned Businesspeople; How Karlie Kloss and Nolan Patrick Changed Their Careers (And How They're Changing the Modeling Industry Today)_ **

_ I met Nolan Patrick on a windy day in the middle of New York City. He was only five minutes late, but he apologized profusely, both over text and in person. "My kid is sick," He explained to me as we sat down. "We were waiting for my husband to get home, but you know how traffic can be in the summer." The husband that Nolan is referring to is none other than Travis Konecny, forward (and alternate captain) of the Philadelphia Flyers...[KEEP READING]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still plan on writing some extra codas (plus there's all the work i've done on dylan and tyler's au, which will hopefully go up sometime in early may), so if you like this, be sure to let me know! 
> 
> true fact, actually, after modeling seriously for 3/4 years, karlie kloss left the victoria's secret runway team to study at NYU. she figured it would be better for her longterm career and she was right!! she's a successful businesswoman who also happens to model sometimes. she also funds a lot of STEM workshops for young women.
> 
> this was honestly such a fun au and i wouldn't be opposed to revisiting it for another, longer fic if people liked it (especially if people had specific characters they'd want to see in this au!!!).

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked the bit with tyler and dylan, check back in about a month--i'm currently working on a fic involving the two of them in that Very Specific au. yes, it does involve tyler stealing things. yes, it's "uncut gems meets oceans 11 meets the raven cycle" (thanks, jj). this nolan will probably appear in it.
> 
> all the designers mentioned in this story are real people, with real, gorgeous clothing, especially elie saab. the research for this was probably the best part of writing this story. again, thank you to amy for sending me pics of outfits she wanted nolan to wear, and screaming when i sent some back.
> 
> fun fact, this is actually the longest fic i have on here to date, and i'm terrified to publish it.  
please leave comments, even if they're just telling me that there's a typo somewhere!  
now, if you need me, i'll be playing animal crossing--my copy of the game just came today.


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